Sonnet 564

Splayed on my shipwrecked past I loll and muse
Enthralled by spectral forms that rise and fall
As whitecaps on a sea of endless blue,
Wind fetched by storms transformed to senseless squalls.
How vast the ocean, minuscule the strand
Who by the mighty main is ever tried;
Upheaved in ire upon approach to land
To break in fury, conquest yet denied.
Ah still they come to wear the mighty down
As if by constancy they should prevail
And wax in force that nereids there may drown,
Vexed so by distant tempests, borne by gales.
Perhaps they’ve won here after all this time…
And I should now commend my soul to brine.
© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved

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